


around the bend

by softlees



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, happy birthday fool, i love you ra, seokmin is a sunshine, wonwoo is a LOSER who cannot flirt to save his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlees/pseuds/softlees
Summary: There’s this boy.Granted, Wonwoo thinks most stories start with a boy. Because they’re the problem. Boys, he means.





	around the bend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newvision](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newvision/gifts).



> happy birthday to my loveliest friend, my virgo soulmate, my treasured writer genius/mastermind. ra, this one's for you.

There’s this boy.

 

Granted, Wonwoo thinks most stories start with a boy. Because they’re the problem. Boys, he means.

 

This one sits in his lecture, with glasses that Wonwoo would like to slap off his head because Wonwoo’s 99.9% sure they’re purely for fashion purposes, unlike his own, whose lenses are so thick the frame can barely support them.

 

Wonwoo sits behind him, not because he likes this boy, but because Wonwoo is a creature of habit. Comfort means different things to other people, but to him it consists of sitting at the same bubblegum littered chair and desk despite there being no explicit seating chart. Routine. Ease. Familiarity. Words that he is fond of.

 

Those very same words — unfortunately — land Wonwoo with a clear view of this boy.

 

Every single day he sees this boy do the same thing. Smile and greet the professor with a grin so dazzling she forgets to mark him tardy, then hurriedly plop into his seat while making mindless chit chat with his neighbors, who are overjoyed to see him despite his disrupting the entire class.

 

Wonwoo thinks irritably, as this boy delves into an animated tale about how he managed to find a clean pair of boxers in his pots and pan drawer at three in the morning (this apparently was the proxy that allowed him to finally shower for the first time in several days, because this boy doesn’t know how to operate any of the washing machines that are found on every floor of the dorms), that boys like this should never have been allowed into college in the first place. Heathens.

 

But he digresses. He isn’t an admissions officer, and perhaps Wonwoo _is_ judging a book by his cover, so he opts to let the matter rest by flipping open his notebook. He will not judge. He will not pass opinions on this boy. He is a generally pleasant person. Soonyoung says so, and Soonyoung’s liked by nearly everyone, so Wonwoo must be doing something right.

 

Despite promising himself to take the proverbial higher moral ground, Wonwoo grows more peeved as the teacher travels through the lesson plan for the day.

 

The boy is constantly in motion. Legs jiggling up and down under the desk, sneakers scuffling on the floor. One pen tapping. Now it’s clicking. Once. Twice. Againagainagain.

 

Wonwoo scowls under his breath, just because he feels that he is afforded the right to express his annoyance, at the very least. They’re in class, and he doesn’t want to make a big scene, but this boy is getting on his nerves. Big time.

 

The entire class turns to look at him. Wonwoo flushes, because he’d been boring holes into the back of this boy’s head and apparently it came out a lot louder than he’d anticipated to be and now the recipient of his annoyance for the past half hour is facing him, looking startled to be the center of such an intense glare. As if he doesn’t know the pain he’s inflicted on Wonwoo’s very person ever since he stepped into the room, sunshine and all.

 

The professor clears her throat. “Wonwoo, do you have anything to say?”

 

“No,” he replies, ducking down in his seat, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. He prays for the ground to swallow him whole but apparently doesn’t learn his lesson, and watches this boy flip back around when she continues the lecture. Surprisingly, the way this boy moves the rest of the semester is more muted — shoulders hunched, voice meek, less fidgety.

 

 _Huh,_ Wonwoo thinks.

 

The boy’s name is Seokmin.

  


* * *

 

 

Wonwoo’s sitting in the same lecture hall again.

 

Seokmin is chatting loudly in his seat too, smiling affectionately at his seat mates, two students younger than Wonwoo by a year, a bickering pair named Seungkwan and Mingyu. Their reputation exceeds their mouths, which is rather impressive; the duo never stop fighting in class. This time, they're fighting about whether or not it's possible that aliens exist (Mingyu firmly does not believe so, while Seungkwan is nodding fervently with his entire body and looks about one step away from leaning over Seokmin to throttle his much bigger foe).

 

It's not that Wonwoo cares. It's just that they seem very into the discussion they are having at a pretty loud volume, and Wonwoo has ears. His best skill is listening.

 

This is what he tells himself, anyways.

 

The truth is, Wonwoo's taken to watching Seokmin the entirety of the lecture nowadays, and it's absolutely destroying him inside. Distraction over a _boy_? His mother would have his head. His father would wail something about raising Wonwoo better than this, though his father's definition of parenthood was plopping him in front of a TV in order for Wonwoo to get his "education". Soonyoung would go up in a tizzy, immediately leaping on his phone to try and stalk Seokmin to the best of his ability despite his complete lack of internet knowledge.

 

To be quite frank, Wonwoo's world is crumbling into ruins, and it's all Seokmin's fault.

 

Seokmin is in the midst of trying to keep Seungkwan from lunging at Mingyu's throat when he catches Wonwoo's gaze. Immediately he hisses something to the two, who drop their hands and sheepishly rub the back of their necks.

 

Wonwoo doesn't quite know what he was expecting after the predicament last week, but he certainly wasn't expecting _this_.

 

Seokmin gives him a tight-lipped smile, a restrained nod, and flips back forward, hunching over his notes. The universal sign for sorry. Seungkwan and Mingyu quiet down too, but not before shooting Wonwoo a worried glance, harried as if they'd just gotten caught stealing out of the candy jar.

 

It's quiet for the rest of the lecture after that. Seokmin doesn't smile any more, or make any jokes. Wonwoo doesn't get to hear Seokmin's laugh reverberate through the hall, or the sheepish apology that he has to make after it ripples through the rest of class. But once the bell rings and they're all shuffling out, he immediately melts back into warmth, all golden smiles, arms windmilling in jest.

 

And even when Wonwoo tells himself he doesn’t care, he does. Because everybody yearns for a piece of sun. Especially when they don’t have it.

 

* * *

 

Today Seokmin's wearing a cap, which makes the back of his head look just as cute as when he's turned around. Wonwoo smacks himself gently on the head for thinking such a traitorous thought.

 

He's taken to chewing on his pen cap whenever he wants to say something to Seokmin, which is often now. Weeks have passed, and it's the same thing over and over again —  Seokmin will be boisterous and loud and pretty and brilliant until he remembers that Wonwoo is there (Soonyoung calls him crazy but Seokmin almost always quiets down after he makes eye contact with him, there’s _no_ question about it) and quiets down immediately.

 

Wonwoo knows he’s supposed to feel some gross sort of vindication, but all he feels is, strangely, a little saddened. Which is ridiculous! He was annoyed by the guy, and now he’s endeared?

 

(“I’m _telling_ you,” Soonyoung says, far more often than he should, rolling his eyes as he smacks Wonwoo up the head, “you have some weird ass fetishes, Jeon Wonwoo. Get your dick in check, will you?”)

 

The professor finishes telling them about their midterm, some godawful multiple choice and free response loaded thing. Wonwoo’s not actually too sure because he’s a little bit too busy focusing on the shape of Seokmin’s ears. She dismisses them with a cheerful wave, and reminds them to start studying sooner rather than later. Wonwoo snaps into focus, flushing even though he’s sure that no one is looking, grabbing his notebooks and shoving them into his bag. He’s the last one out the door, shuffling on his way out as he checks his phone for messages.

 

There aren’t any. Wonwoo doesn’t have very many friends. And the ones that he does have tend to prefer face to face interaction rather than partake in any “demon technologies”.  

 

There’s a clearing of a throat, which makes him look up from the screen.

 

Seokmin is there. Waiting for him after lecture, leaning against the wall next to the exit, hands fiddling with themselves, as if not quite sure how else to occupy all that nervous energy. He takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair and then puts it back on, shaking his head as he huffs sheepishly.

 

Wonwoo’s decided that he finds this sort of thing very cute, and is debating on whether or not to bolt from this situation entirely. Confrontation is not his strong suit, but apparently it is Seokmin’s.

 

"Listen," Seokmin starts. "I know you don't like me."

 

Wonwoo’s a little bit too starstruck at their proximity to say anything besides an awkward, “Um.” The only thing that his measly brain can come up with is that Seokmin smells like peaches.

 

“There’s only a couple days left until the midterm,” Seokmin points out, babbling at this point,  “and you’ve got one of the highest grades in the class, and I’m kind of iffy on the last chapter we covered, so I was wondering if you could maybe help me study?” He tucks his fingers into the loops of his jeans. Rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, head ducked down, voice quiet and shy when he says, “I figured we could, y’know, start over.”

 

Wonwoo blinks. “Start over?”

 

Seokmin looks at him like he’s dumb. Wonwoo wonders offhandedly if this is what Soonyoung feels like all the time. “You don’t like me? Glared at me in the first few weeks of class?” Seokmin laughs, though a little too high pitched and anxious. “You have a very scary demeanor.”

 

“Oh,” Wonwoo says, though all the pieces are starting to slot into place now. The reason why Seokmin would smile at everyone _but_ him in that lecture hall. The reason why he would quiet down whenever they made eye contact, the hunched shoulders, muted brightness.

 

“That’s just my face.” Wonwoo tries again, because it’s always good to use his words. “I don’t hate you, I promise.”

 

The “I like you a lot, actually,” slips out without Wonwoo realizing, and it takes a while for the words to hang in the air before they get acknowledged. Seokmin’s looking at Wonwoo with a little bit of amusement in his eyes, and a burgeoning smile, and Wonwoo would die of embarrassment but he’s just found out that he really, _really_ likes it when Seokmin’s beam is directed at him.

 

"You have a very convoluted way of flirting, you know." Seokmin says, grinning.

 

"I've had better luck over the years," Wonwoo shrugs, ducking his head, hiding his flush. “I haven’t really met anyone like you before.”

 

“Oh?” Seokmin’s eyes sparkle. Huh. Wonwoo seriously didn’t think that was real. But Seokmin is the kind of boy that spits in the face of these sort of things; he’s the kind of boy that seems like it. “ _Really_ , now?”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just meant you’re annoyingly… ” Wonwoo squints, and gestures roughly to all of Seokmin, “... bright.”

 

Seokmin laughs, and for once, it’s for Wonwoo.

 

He likes the sound of it.

 

* * *

 

 

“Happy birthday!” Seokmin grins, and drops something onto Wonwoo’s lap.

 

“It’s not wrapped,” Wonwoo says with a quirked eyebrow.

 

Seokmin pouts, which makes him very adorable. Wonwoo doesn’t tell him that because Seokmin already knows, and because it will only encourage that sort of behavior, something Wonwoo’s heart really does not need.

 

“I’m a college student,” Seokmin whines, leaning his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo just continues to look at him. “And wrapping paper is nine dollars,” Seokmin groans, defeated. “I could buy two and a half macchiatos with that.”

 

“That’s my boyfriend,” Wonwoo hums, still feeling a giddy kick in his chest at the words. He lifts up the shirt — he can now discern — and nearly bursts out laughing at the godawful font slapped hastily onto the front of it.

 

“ _I DON’T HATE YOU, I PROMISE. THIS IS JUST MY FACE_ ?” Wonwoo turns to Seokmin accusingly, but he’s already unzipped his jacket and shown Wonwoo his matching one, an equally horrendous shirt with the words, _SORRY ABOUT HIM_ , with a sequined arrow. Seokmin’s fashion tastes have always been questionable, and this is no exception.

 

“Mingyu and Minghao helped me buy them!” Seokmin beams. “We can match!”

 

And well, when Seokmin puts it like that, smiling like that, Wonwoo finds it loathe to say no. So he slips on the awful shirt, with the awful font on it, and revels in the way Seokmin beams up at him, even as some part of him shrivels up and dies at the thought of wearing this in a public setting. The things you endure for the people you love.

 

“Just one question for you.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“Did you buy this at Forever 21?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Well, _did_ you?”

 

The reply is mutinous, although faint. “So what if I did?”

 

“No reason,” Wonwoo chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of Seokmin’s head. “No reason at all.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> im @dksuns on twitter if u need me!!! ty for reading aaaa


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